


I wear your shirt like it's your arms around me

by hendollana



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hints of Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, basically jaskier would look cute in geralts nasty ass clothes, just really really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hendollana/pseuds/hendollana
Summary: "You're not expecting me to fuck you whilst we travel on Roach, are you?"Jaskier splutters, furrowing his brow in a glare directed towards Geralt. "No, you barbarian, I am not.""Then why are you wearing my shirt?"orFive times Jaskier wore an item of Geralt's clothing and one time Geralt wore an item of Jaskier's.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 272
Kudos: 5257
Collections: THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH





	1. one, two, three.

**Author's Note:**

> oof its another jaskier/geralt fic! As the same with my last one, ive only seen the show so apologises for any discrepensies or if its ooc (but everything i write is tbh).
> 
> part two will be out tomorrow im just posting part one rn to motivate me to finish the fic jfhhf, anyway pls enjoy!!

**one.**

Jaskier loved travelling with Geralt, he really, really did, because who wouldn't want to travel with the White Wolf. However, Jaskier sort of really hated it sometimes. Especially right now, when the rain is pouring down and Jaskier's silk, his  _ beautiful, silk _ , clothes were soaking through to his bones. 

And okay, maybe he shouldn't be complaining to Geralt as much as he is because the witcher had at least let him ride up on Roach with him - it had become more of an occurrence than not ever since Jaskier and Geralt had started whatever this thing they have going on is - but he's cold and wet and there's only so much warmth he can get from cuddling up to Geralt's unfairly warm back.

"Jaskier, I can feel your teeth chattering."

Jaskier snorts in response, "Okay, well what am  _ I  _ meant to do about it? You're the one with the magic witchery powers,  _ you  _ stop the rain."

Geralt's back shakes a little against where the younger has his chest rested against it, and Jaskier still feels a warm glow of pride whenever he makes Geralt chuckle, although like getting to ride on Roach, it's a lot more common nowadays.

"Bard, for all the years we've travelled together I'd have figured you knew I can't control the weather."

Jaskier humphs into Geralt's neck, and winds his hands tighter around Geralt's middle as a last ditch attempt to soak some warmth into his ice cold fingers. 

Jaskier thinks that's the end of the conversation, that he'll remain crowded into Geralt and occasionally whine about how there's water dripping down his back and Geralt will 'hmm' in reply until they eventually find a nice, hopefully dry place to camp or by God's grace a village with an inn. 

That's what usually happens, apart from now Geralt is slowly tugging on Roach's reigns, slowing her down until they're at a stand still in the middle of the puddle spotted dirt road.

"Uhh Geralt," Jaskier begins, lifting his head from the warm spot on his partner, "I hate to be presumptuous but this doesn't exactly look like a good place to camp." 

Geralt grunts, and Jaskier can almost see the roll of the golden marbles Geralt calls his eyes, and shrugs his thick woolen cloak off his large frame, untying it at his neck and turning around on the saddle to half face Jaskier.

"Hi?" Jaskier says uncertainly, tilting his head to the side in a way he  _ knows _ looks comical but he also  _ knows  _ Geralt loves it. 

"Hello," Geralt rumbles back, before pulling the cloak from his lap and draping it over Jaskier's shoulders, gently smoothing it out over the smaller man's shoulders and pulling the way too big hood over his head, and then readjusting it so it  _ isn't  _ covering Jaskier's eyes and nose and finally, methodically tying the strings with expert fingers until Jaskier's surprised face is staring up at him, "There." 

And Jaskier, probably for the first time in his life, doesn't really know what to say. He's just staring dumbly at Geralt's beautiful fucking face, it's not that he doesn't know that Geralt cares about him, because of course he does, it's just that Geralt's letting him  _ wear _ his  _ clothes _ . And Jaskier feels warmer than he ever has.

Geralt's already turned back around and coaxed Roach into a gentle trot, and Jaskier still hasn't said anything.

"I-, Thanks Geralt." Is all he manages in the end, but Jaskier knows that by the way Geralt sighs contently as Jaskier tugs the cloak around so it covers his whole body and tucks himself back into Geralt's body, that he knows how much Jaskier appreciates the gesture.

**two** .

Jaskier hesitates to say it becomes a habit for the two, like riding on Roach, or making each other laugh, or falling asleep in Geralt's arms, but Jaskier finds himself drowned in Geralt's cloak whenever it's raining so hard that his own clothes are soaked through. Geralt tells him that he needs to buy his own cloak, Jaskier tells him that he knows they both love it when he wears Geralt's. The witcher grunts in agreement.

But this,  _ this _ , was new. 

They're both laying in the inn rooms bed, happy and sedated after some really good sex, if Jaskier could say himself, and the bard feels all sore in all the right places. Geralt is even running a larger than physically possible hand through his hair, when Jaskier sits up in sudden urgency. 

Geralt startles a little, opening heavy lids to stare at where Jaskier is sitting up on the bed, sheets pooling around his waist, with wide eyes.

"What is it, Jask?" 

Jaskier spins around to face his witcher, a hand placed dramatically, even for the bard, on his chest.

"I left my lute downstairs, at the reception. Oh my god, Geralt." Jaskier replies, frantic.

Because how the  _ fuck _ did he forget his single most prized possession in the common room of some random inn in a random village in the Continent? Well, Jaskier thinks, it might have something to do about the way Geralt was whispering into his ear and placing his hand at the small of his back.

Jaskier gasps, pointing an accusatory finger at the witcher, "You!" Geralt raises an eyebrow in response, "It's your fault I left my lute, my baby, my  _ daughter _ , downstairs for any common theif to steal!"

Geralt scoffs, pushing himself up so he's sat beside his  _ very _ overdramatic bard, "And how might that be, Jaskier?"

Jaskier glares at him, shoving his finger into his  _ very _ muscled chest, "Because of all the shit you were whispering to me, about what you were going to do to me! I got distracted and left her, all because you're insatiable!" 

Geralt outright laughs now, pulling Jaskier towards him to kiss his forehead, "I didn't hear any complaints earlier." 

Jaskier blushes, because he's right, he wasn't exactly complaining when he had Geralt's dick inside him, but he still shoves the older man away. Muttering curses under his breath as Jaskier gets off the bed, naked as the day he was born, and grabs the first item of clothing off the floor that he sees. It happens to be Geralt's black shirt. 

Jaskier pulls it over his head, not even feeling slightly ashamed when it reaches his mid thighs and slips slightly off his left shoulder, turning around to face Geralt whos staring at him like he's never seen Jaskier change before.

"What?" Jaskier asks, rummaging around the vanity for the key to unlock their room.

Geralt grunts again, running a hand through his sweat slick hair, "Nothing. You can't go down in just that."

Jaskier cheers as he finds the key, tucking it into his hand before he stares back at Geralt.

"And why's that? Because you don't want anyone to see me in the mighty witchers clothes?"

Geralt groans this time, "No, Jaskier. Because you look fucking sinful in it and I don't want anyone else seeing that." 

Jaskier, curse his pale complexion, blushes again, his steps stuttering slightly as he walks towards the door. 

"Oh? Well, I guess I'll just have to be quick," Jaskier says, throwing Geralt a wink as he opens the door, "Then you can show me just how 'sinful' I look."

"Jaski-" Geralt starts, but his name dies on his lips as Jaskier laughs as he closes the door behind him, Geralt's shirt slipping down even further on his shoulder.

Damn that fucking bard. 

**three** .

So, wearing Geralt's shirts sort of  _ does  _ become a thing. 

After that night with the lute, which Jaskier had found safely tucked away behind the counter, bless the old lady who owned it, he had come back up the stairs and had barely opened the door to the room before Geralt was pouncing on him, kissing his exposed collar bones before fucking Jaskier  _ whilst _ the bard wore Geralt's shirt.

It's a strictly sexual thing the first few weeks, Jaskier slipping on one of Geralt's too large, too scratchy shirts, and watching Geralt's eyes fill up with lust and want, a hint of possessiveness gracing the way he'd trace Jaskier's body. But then, one morning they're in a rush to ride to a new contract, and Jaskier doesn't have time to put on his actual clothes that lay discarded on the floor from the previous night. Instead he shoves his top into one of Geralt's bags and slips on his trousers, keeping Geralt's shirt on and tucking it into them. 

Geralt's finished changing into his own, actual clothes now and gives Jaskier a once over.

"You're not expecting me to fuck you whilst we travel on Roach, are you?" 

Jaskier splutters, furrowing his brow in a glare directed towards Geralt. "No, you barbarian, I am not." 

"Then why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Because we're in a rush and I already had it on! Gods, Geralt, you were the one forcing me awake at arse o'clock." Jaskier replies, walking over to Geralt and reaching up to kiss him quickly.

"Hm," Geralt mutters, and then, "It suits you. You look,  _ cute _ ." 

Jaskier grins from where his mouth is still pressed against Geralts, his toes feeling fizzy from the compliment. 

"Odd, seen as your clothes never look cute on you," Jaskier smiles, leaning back to place his hand against Geralt's stubbled cheek, "I mean, c'mon Geralt, how old is this shirt? It  _ stinks _ ."

Jaskier sort of means that it stinks in a good way though, because it smells like  _ Geralt _ . It smells like fire wood, and moss, and  _ home _ . And wearing Geralt's shirt makes Jaskier feel safe, because Geralt makes him feel safe. 

"It smells like me."

Jaskier smiles softly, pressing his face into Geralt's chest, "Yeah. I know. That's why I like wearing it." 

And after that, Jaskier wears the shirt from the night before the day after more often than not. And sure, whenever they're in cities with people who  _ know _ Jaskier, who  _ knew _ him  _ before _ Geralt, they give him odd looks. Wondering why Jaskier, connoisseur of all things fine and fancy, is prancing about in too big, dark and muted shirts. Jaskier always smiles at them, and tells them that he's trying something knew. Geralt always looks at him from across the room, and smirks. 


	2. four, five, six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two!! this turned out a wee bit longer than intended, and i spent way too much time researching how expensive gold is :/
> 
> enjoy!!

**four.**

The fire is warm as it glows against the side of Jaskier's face, pillowed into Geralt's even warmer lap. It's comfier than the bed roll, Jaskier always tells the witcher, and Geralt always rolls his eyes and tells Jaskier he's too spoilt, but he never pushes Jaskier's head off his thighs. 

The night is surprisingly warm for mid October, which is why Jaskier hadn't complained _too_ much when Geralt had stopped Roach by a small creek with a flat spot to lay down for the night, declaring that this was a _perfect_ space to spend the night. Jaskier doesn't really disagree much right now, as he's laying on his witcher, with Roach's soft snores filling his ears, his stomach full from rabbit Geralt had caught and his heart full from the hand that Geralt has tangled up in the bards hair, softly stroking. 

"Do you pet Roach like this, witcher?" Jaskier mumbles sleepily, a small smile gracing his face.

"No, she's far prettier than you and doesn't need as much attention." 

"Oy!" Jaskier gasps, punching the side of Geralt's (thick) calf. 

"And she's quieter." Geralt continues, but Jaskier can hear the smile in his voice, and he can't lie and say that Geralt joyfully teasing him doesn't bring a smile to his own face.

"Yeah," Jaskier hums in agreement, "But you _love_ me."

"Hmm," Geralt pauses, the hand in Jaskier's hair stilling for a moment, "I do." 

Jaskier smiles even wider, turning his head around so he's face to face with the witcher. Geralt's looking at him softly, contently and full of _love_. And Jaskier's not sure he's ever going to get used to hearing Geralt admit that he loves him, he's not sure if he's ever going to get tired of it either. 

Geralt's hand is moving in his hair again, brushing Jaskier's fringe away from his eyes and up towards his head. Jaskier's hair isn't long, per say, not like Geralt's hair is, especially right now when he's not got it half tied up and it's falling around his face like angels themselves placed each strand, but he hasn't had it cut in a while and it's falling just a bit more over his eyes than Jaskier would like. But, Geralt seems to like to play with it even more when Jaskier's hair is a bit longer, and who is Jaskier to deny a man that joy?

"Hmm." Geralt mutters, moving his hand from Jaskier's hair to lift his sleeve up and retrieve something from his wrists. 

Jaskier raises an eyebrow, watching Geralt as he smiles a little when he finds what he's looking for, "What?" 

"Shh," Geralt says, moving both of his hands into Jaskier's hair now, smoothing the locks so they're all on the top of Jaskier's head, "Let me do something." 

And if Jaskier wasn't deeply, and utterly in love with the man, he might try and stop him doing god knows what to his hair, or even just _ask_. But, Jaskier is deeply and utterly in love with Geralt, so instead he watches Geralt's face in calm concentration as he threads his fingers through Jaskier's hair.

Then, Jaskier watches as Geralt pulls whatever was on his wrist down and neatly, with years of practice, twists and turns his hands until the item is no longer in his hands, and is instead, in Jaskier's hair. 

And finally, Jaskier watches as Geralt grins, a proper _grin_ , when he finishes what he was doing, looking down at Jaskier with laughter in his eyes.

Now, Jaskier is suspicious, "Geralt, what did you do?" 

"Nothing," Geralt laughs, deep and rumbly and _beautiful,_ "Just made your hair more interesting."

Jaskier glares, bringing a hand up to feel his hair, glaring even harder when he feels Geralt's hair tie wrapped around his own hair until the longest strands are standing up straight on top of his head like a tuft of new born babies hair forced into a bow by their mother. 

" _Geralt!_ " Jaskier whines, sitting up and looking pointedly at his partner, "Why would you _do_ that? I look like an idiot." 

Geralt's full blown laughing now, his head titled back and his _own_ goddamn hair looking as fantastic as usual, and whenever he brings his eyes back to look at Jaskier he bursts out laughing again. 

"Ah, Jaskier," Geralt breaths out between chuckles, "You look exquisite, like a potted plant."

Jaskier wants to be offended, he really does, but watching Geralt smile at him, his cheeks red from laughing and his eyes glossy from his happiness, Jaskier really can't be anything but absolutely fucking in love.

"Oh, wow, how sexy of me! Jaskier, the potted plant." 

Geralt's stopped laughing as much now, but a bright smile is still plastered on his face and he reaches out to ping at the ponytail on top of Jaskier's head. And curse Geralt's fast witcher reflexes, because the bard can't even push his hand away in time. 

"You look cute, Jask, maybe not as good as _I_ look with my hair up, but who knows, this could be a new look for you." Geralt smirks, remains of laughter woven through his voice. 

Jaskier rolls his eyes, it definitely will _not_ be a new look for him. But maybe, if Jaskier with his hair up in Geralt's own hair tie makes the witcher laugh this much, just maybe Jaskier will keep it in for the night.

"Sure," Jaskier says, crawling over to Geralt and swinging his legs over his waist to settle in the olders lap, "Now kiss me." 

**five.**

Jaskier swears he isn't as useless to the witcher as people think he is, he swears that he _can_ help during _some_ of the fights - mainly the ones against actual, fellow humans, and less the oned against big, scary monsters- but somehow he always ends up injured in some way. 

Currently, he's walking beside Geralt with a firm hand pressed over the cut just on his right shoulder where the arrow had grazed it, ' _Keep pressure on it, you idiot!'_ Geralt had muttered all the way through their walk back to the village. 

Geralt's walking a bit ahead of Jaskier, raiditing silent anger and Jaskier can't help but feel bad. He probably should have stayed further away from where the bandit was clashing swords with Geralt, but he'd just seen a second bandit walking up behind the first, bow drawn, and Jaskier had to _warn_ Geralt. Turns out, Geralt got all the warning he needed when the second attacker let his bow fire, the arrow slicing the top of Jaskier's shoulder, causing the bard to fall to his knees with a pained whimper. 

The rest is a bit of a blur to Jaskier, Geralt will later tell him that the bandits were disposed off mere moments after Jaskier had been shot. Jaskier will then later whine that that doesn't make for a great song.

"I'm sorry, Geralt." Jaskier finally plucks up the courage to say, when they're sat in their inn room and Geralt is carefully cleaning out the shallow wound. 

Geralt hums, not replying yet as he rinses out the rag in the bowl of water next to his knees.

"I just wanted to let you know that that lady was coming towards you, I mean, I guess she was actually coming towards _me_ , but I didn't know that at the time." Jaskier rambles a little, a bit worried when Geralt still hasn't replied. 

Geralt stops his movements, stilling the patting of a clean rag against Jaskier's now clean cut, and looks into Jaskier's eyes. 

"I know, Jask, I just," Geralt starts, and then sighs, "I don't want you to get hurt." 

Jaskier melts a little, but he's not quite done yet, "You get hurt all the time though."

Geralt groans, "That's _different_ Jaskier, I'm used to it, I heal quicker. You could seriously get injured one day, and then I, I don't know what I'd _do_ , Jaskier." 

And, oh, Jaskier thinks. That's new. 

They don't really share their fears of each other getting injured often, mainly because Jaskier knows that Geralt's usually fine and is probably going to live forever, and until know, because Jaskier didn't really know that Geralt worried about _him_ getting hurt. 

Jaskier brings his hand on the arm connected to his good shoulder up to cradle Geralt's face, smiling softly as the witcher leans into it, "I'll always be fine, I've got you to protect me, haven't I?" 

Geralt smiles back at him, for the first time since Jaskier got injured, and closes the gap between their faces to gently capture Jaskier's lips. Jaskier takes this as a yes. 

When they wake up the next morning, tangled in the sheets and each other like usual, Jaskier thinks that will be the end of it. They have to go to Cintra for Jaskier play at a ball for Queen Calanthe, but Jaskier decides not to change out of Geralt's favourite black shirt that he'd slept in, he can always change at the castle. 

So, Jaskier is surprised when he's about to slide his lute case over his good shoulder and Geralt stops him with a gentle hand on his chest. 

Jaskier looks up at the man, and raises an eyebrow when he sees Geralt's chest and shoulder armour in his hands. 

Jaskier knows what Geralt wants before the witcher's even opened his mouth, "No, Geralt. No. Absolutely _not_."

The bard has already made up his mind that he is not trapeasing around in Geralt's armour, and especially not to one of the biggest castles in the Continent. 

But, Geralt hasn't made a living monster hunting by giving in at the first hurdle, "Yes, Jaskier. To keep your shoulder protected."

"Yeah, I know what armour _does_ Geralt. But my shoulders fine, I'm _fine_." 

Geralt grunts, pulling Jaskier towards him and dumping the armour over Jaskier's head before the bard even has time to complain. Stepping back after he's done tying the shoulder plates down onto the chest piece, a triumphant glow on his face. "There."

Jaskier folds his arms, trying his very best to look threatening, but it's _hard_ to cross your arms whilst they're constricted by tough armour and all his attempts ends up doing is resulting in a chuckle from Geralt.

"Take it _off_ , witcher." Jaskier says, stomping his foot for good measure, 

"No, it's keeping you from getting hurt. I can't always be your own personal armour." Geralt says, as he steps away briefly to tuck his other, not favourite because that's still on Jaskier under Geralt's armour, shirt into his high waisted trousers that really shouldn't make the witcher look as hot as they do.

Jaskier takes this moment to turn around and face the mirror in the corner of the room. The armour is _clearly_ not his, and looks far too large on him, it's black and hard and so distinctly _Geralt's_ that Jaskier feels a bit, okay, a lot, stupid in it. 

"I look like a child in their fathers clothes." Jaskier whines, turning back to look at Geralt who's back to staring at the bard.

"No, you look safe," Geralt says, before licking his bottom lip, "And you look like mine." 

And of course, Jaskier thinks, of course Geralt would find something hot about Jaskier wearing his armour. But Jaskier can't deny the warm feeling growing in his stomach as Geralt eyes him up and down, and he can't deny that he _does_ feel safe, and he _does_ feel like Geralt's. 

"Fine." Jaskier resigns, "I'll wear it. But only because you look like you're going to strip me out of it as soon as we reach Cintra."

Geralt, does strip Jaskier out of it as soon as they reach Cintra. 

**plus one.**

They haven't really named what they have going on, him and Geralt. But whatever it is, it's been going on for nearly a year and Jaskier wants to do something _special_ to celebrate the year, a year of kissing the witcher whenever he wanted, a year of braiding the witchers hair - even if Geralt claims to absolutely hate it-, a year of _loving_ Geralt of Rivia.

Jaskier gets the idea because of all the times he wears Geralt's clothes, because that's sort of how people _know_ that they're together. At balls, and parties, and taverns, they know that Jaskier is Geralt's because he's clad in a shirt three sizes too large. And Jaskier loves it, he loves how possessive Geralt gets, and he loves people knowing that he's with him. But he wants people to know that Geralt is _his_ too. However, it's not like Geralt could exactly wear one of Jaskier's many outfits, even if he wanted too, because Jaskier isn't sure his silk shirts would even fit over one of Geralt's biceps.

So, Jaskier has to be creative. And considering that he _is_ a bard, it comes quite easily to him.

It's executing his plan that's the difficult part, especially without Geralt knowing. They're together pretty much all of the time, and even when they're not, Jaskier's usually too busy pining and missing Geralt to do anything productive. 

Jaskier needs to bring in some outside help, and as it turns out, also because he's a bard, it's not actually that hard to find someone who can help him out. He meets her in a tavern, whilst Geralt is out collecting his coin from the latest hunt, and immediately Jaskier knows she's his girl when he spots the intricately designed brooch pinned upon her shirt. 

Jaskier doesn't get the finished gift for a following two weeks, but it's beautiful when he does. Just what he'd imagined and explained to the girl with the beautiful brooch, sturdy but still delicate, pretty but still distinctly manly, and just _perfect_. 

The earth completes its orbit around the sun to mark a year since Jaskier first kissed Geralt the very next day, and the bard is a buzz with nerves the entire day. Laughing quietly and dismissing any problems with him when Geralt keeps enquiring. Jaskier doesn't really expect Geralt to _know_ it's been a year since their thing started, he's just nervous to give his gift to the witcher, worried that it's too much but also too little and worried that Geralt might not even _like_ it.

They stroll into a village around noon, tying Roach up to the stables and booking themselves a room at the inn, not so much a rare instance in the winter. Jaskier is even more nervous now it's just the two of them together in a room, shoving his hand into his pocket and thumbing the present wrapped in a scrap of paper. 

"Jaskier, calm down." Geralt says, putting a hand on Jaskier's chest to stop his pacing.

"I _am_ calm." Jaskier breaths, rather not calmly. 

Geralt scoffs, guiding Jaskier until he's pressed up against the bigger man's chest and Geralt is running a soothing hand up and down his back, "What's wrong, bard?" 

Jaskier figures now is better than ever, and takes a deep breath, "I, uh, I have something for you." 

Jaskier dares a look up to Geralt's face as he takes a small step back out of the embarace, but not so large that Geralt's hand still remains cradling his neck. Geralt is looking down at him, an inquisitive look schooling his features. And, fuck, Jaskier really does feel nervous. 

"Okay?" Geralt drawls, still gently thumbing the side of Jaskier's neck, "Can I have it? Or is it some sort of game? Do I have to win you?" 

Jaskier lets out a strangled giggle, feeling ever so stupid for being this nervous. "No, just. Just hear me out." 

Geralt hums, and nods his head. Which Jaskier knows is the most solid 'okay' you could get from the witcher. 

"So, uh, I don't know if you know, and it's okay if you don't! But, today's a year since we first kissed and shit, which I guess, it's sort of an anniversary? So, yeah, um I got you a gift. To just say thanks for sticking with me for a year." Jaskier speaks out in one breath, brave enough to still look Geralt in the face as he pulls his hand out of his pocket and shoves the package into Geralt's chest. 

"Hmm," Geralt says, looking guilty as he takes the scruffily wrapped gift from his bard's nervous fingers, "I didn't know, I didn't get you anything, I'm sorry, Jask."

Jaskier's quick to speak, to wipe the guilt of the witchers handsome face, "No! No, it's okay, I don't want anything. I didn't expect anything, I have _you._ Just, open it? Please? I'm not sure I can take the nerves anymore, Geralt."

Geralt smiles, brushing Jaskier's collarbone one more time before he carefully unwraps the gift, exposing the shining gold metal that had cost Jaskier months worth of coin, more and more until it's finally unwrapped.

And then, Geralt doesn't say anything.

As if Jaskier wasn't already nervous enough, he's now about to have a full blown breakdown as he watches Geralt do nothing but _stare_ at the brooch in his hands. 

"It's okay if you don't like it, I get it, I can return it, or, I guess, sell it. It's nothing special really, I just thoug-" 

Jaskier is cut off by Geralt finally moving his gaze from the brooch and looking up at him, and to Jaskier's horror the witchers eyes are glazed over with tears that won't shed.

"Oh _Gods_ , is it that shit?" 

Geralt just shakes his head, a soft smile growing on his lips.

"It's beautiful, Jaskier." The witcher finally talks, his voice rougher than usual. And Jaskier feels all his panic leave him.

"Oh," Jaskier murmurs, a bit breath taken by the way Geralt is just _staring_ at him, with so much love that Jaskier doesn't know what to do, "Oh, that's good, then."

Geralt laughs, "You're beautiful, Jask."

Jaskier ducks his head, a blush still painting his cheeks even after a year of compliments.

"It, it's a dandelion, like my name," Jaskier says, watching as Geralt's eyes smile all on their own, "In case you didn't know."

"I knew." Geralt says softly, pulling Jaskier towards him and kissing any remaining worry away. 

When they pull away, Geralt still has the gold brooch tucked securely into his palm, the spidery petals of the metal flower pressing lightly into his skin. Jaskier reaches out to take it, admiring how well made it was.

"Can I put it on you?" Jaskier asks, happiness dancing in his eyes as he looks up to Geralt.

"Of course."

Jaskier smiles, and gently untucks the pin from it's safety latch and even more gently piercing it through Geralt's (favourite, black) shirt and closing it. And then, when it's securely in place over Geralt's heart, Jaskier reaches forward and plants a small kiss on it. 

When the bard looks back up at Geralt, the witcher is still looking at him like he's the most precious person in the world. 

"Now I'm yours forever." Geralt speaks softly, tracing Jaskier's stubble with his hand.

"Now you're mine forever."

  
  
  
  
  
  


**epilogue.**

Later, _years_ later, when they meet Yennefer she doesn't even need to ask Geralt if the injured bard is 'just a friend'. Not when she sees the still shining gold dandelion pinned upon the witchers chest. Not when she sees them the next morning, the bard, Jaskier, she learns, is wearing the very same shirt Geralt had been wearing the previous night. 

She knows, and she thanks destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i know like two things werent clothes but there's only so much shit geralt wears that i can work with sjdj)
> 
> hmu on tumblr if u like!! even tho i am (sadly) a football blog :// @andyrobertsonz
> 
> the lovely edit of geralt at the end was made by ilovetrianglse for this fic so a huge thank you to them <3

**Author's Note:**

> toss a comment and kudos to ur local fic writer x


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